


it's the invisible things (that i love the most)

by lovethyworld



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: (it happens in the second chapter), A bunch of nerds, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Basically the Crows plus prom, Brief Ableism, Brief homophobia, Crushes, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Light-Hearted, M/M, Mutual Pining, because breaking into the Ice Court pales in comparison to romance, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26548861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethyworld/pseuds/lovethyworld
Summary: Teenage crushes, awkward romance, and normally-confident kids stumbling over their own words: there's nothing quite like high school prom.
Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik
Comments: 32
Kudos: 101





	1. we built castles out of couches

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first contribution to the SoC fandom - hope you enjoy! I myself have not been to prom (yet, just a few more years to go) so I'm giving it my best shot
> 
> the work and chapter titles are taken from "Invisible Things" by Lauv because i'm a basic teenager who can't stay away from his songs
> 
> in this chapter: matthias is awkward

Shame on whoever decided to invent romance. Matthias is going to personally track them down in the underworld and dunk them in an icy cold lake to see how _they_ like stuttering and completely freezing up for once.

Oh, and shame on whoever invented waffles too. Nina would kill him for even thinking it. But here he is, wearing his mother's stupid frilly _apron,_ of all things, fighting with this stupid thick batter, stupid whisk in hand.

"Stupid," he grits out, then immediately regrets it.

He's been trying to keep quiet throughout this whole process, partly because he doesn't want the touchy neighbors to scream at him, but mostly because of his massive Alaskan malamute. At the sound of his voice, Trassel comes sniffing over, his nose to the ground and paws in the thin layer of flour dusting the floor. He's going to get it _everywhere_.

Matthias holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable loss of interest. Despite his dog's intimidating appearance, Trassel is quite possibly the most mischievous dog to walk the face of the planet. If there's a curtain, it will be pulled. If there's a pillow, it will be ripped apart. If there's a carpet... well, you get the idea. Matthias sweeps his gaze around the extremely-vulnerable room: the pale pink tablecloth spread out over the table, the rose-scented candles flickering contentedly in their holders, the strings of paper hearts embellishing the walls. He spent an hour decorating it, trying to get it all perfectly romantic, and he thinks he's achieved it. It looks like a rather small, cozy cafe. Even a tail wag from Trassel could mess it all up.

He stands as still as a statue, frozen in place like a character from a Disney movie. Nina will be here any minute now. He can't afford mistakes.

Trassel sticks his nose in the flour, then turns away.

Relief crashes over Matthias like a wave as he watches Trassel step out of the kitchen. He can practically see glowing possibilities rolling out before him. Nina will love the surprise he has prepared. (He's left the door open so she can come in by herself.) For a moment, he almost wants to sing like a character from said Disney movie.

And then everything goes wrong.

Matthias sees his first mistake when Trassel inhales. No, it's not a normal breath that makes the chest expand and contract slightly, then still again. It's more of a gasp than a breath, a massive gulp of air as if the dog is drinking instead of breathing.

Then Trassel sneezes.

The air is clear and then it's completely clogged with flour as Trassel takes off at a sprint, the grains flying everywhere. Matthias chokes on the sudden explosion and trips over his own feet trying to catch Trassel. He knows what's coming next. But he's too late.

Trassel thunders through the kitchen, barking at nothing and everything. The flour keeps spraying, and Matthias can barely see anything. "Come here!" he bellows, flinging himself at the dog. His hand flies through the air in an attempt to grab Trassel, but it only knocks over the bowl of failed waffle batter on the counter instead. It plunges to the ground as if in slow motion. Creamy dough splatters everywhere. Trassel barks even louder.

Matthias coughs and wades through the mess. He feels uncomfortably blind, what with the dough squishing underfoot every two steps and the mixture of dry ingredients clouding his vision. He pushes his way into the living room and sits down heavily, waiting for the flour to fall away.

When it does, Matthias can _hear_ his second mistake thud like a stone into his chest.

"Trassel," he hisses, seeing the dog's jaws locked onto the tablecloth. Trassel stares at him with wide, innocent eyes and inches backward. All the china plates and candles on top of the cloth shift two inches to the left. One step, and Trassel is going to upturn the entire tablecloth... taking everything on the table with it.

"Steady," Matthias whispers, inching forward. Just a few more feet until he can grab this rascal and end this fiasco before it starts.

Outside, a car door slams. Trassel's ears perk up like he's just seen a squirrel. He races toward the door with the cloth still in his mouth.

Matthias can only watch helplessly as everything on the table falls.

The dishes hit the ground first with earsplitting _crash_ es. They shatter into so many china shards, too many for Matthias to count, little bits of white speckling the floor with unfairly sharp edges. Then come the cups, breaking in a similar fashion.

Finally, the burning candles upturn. Matthias's eyes widen as they tumble down and land haphazardly on the rumpled tablecloth. Patches of pink burst into flame.

Matthias fumbles for the sink and squirts water into the now-empty dough bowl. He flings the liquid at the burning tablecloth with a grunt of effort. With a defeated sizzle, the candle flames go out.

Trassel, having separated his nose from the door, pokes his snout into Matthias's back with an attentive whine. Together, the two of them stare around the ruined kitchen.

The waffles Matthias was trying to make lie flopped all over the floor, the tough dough now splattered on the ground. By the table, the cloth is crumpled on the floorboards and covered with dark singe marks. Broken pieces of china plates and cups are everywhere, effectively turning the room into a minefield. Flour is still settling peacefully on everything like a gentle snow. It is, frankly, a mess.

"This cannot get any worse," Matthias growls to nothing in particular.

Nina opens the door.

Matthias immediately points an accusing finger at Trassel, who looks up at her with doleful eyes. "It was his fault. He sneezed."

Nina takes in the scene with wide green eyes. Her body language is something Matthias can't seem to pinpoint: mouth quirking up at the edges, breath held still in her chest. He feels his own heart skip a beat at her effortless beauty. And maybe also because he's so insanely nervous for her reaction. (He had promised her a perfectly charming evening. This is anything but.)

She opens her mouth, and she bursts into laughter.

"Unless he-" she jerks her chin toward Trassel- "is a flour-breathing dragon in disguise, that isn't helpful in the slightest!" She gasps in a heavy breath through her snorts, and Matthias actually almost flinches because he would hate for his girlfriend to start sneezing flour too.

As Nina's chuckles fade, Matthias feels his irritation grow. He crosses his arms and tries for a scowl. "Just help me clean this up."

The two of them scrub quietly for a while, Nina shaking her head and huffing a bit of laughter every so often. They work in tandem, sweeping the china shards into the trash can, mopping up the flour exploded all over the floor. Matthias stews in silence the whole time. He had had a plan, a _speech_ written out, for God's sake. And the universe had decided to royally screw it up. There was no _way_ she would say yes now.

Finally, the two stand back to admire their work. The kitchen looks almost normal again, except for a bit of flour here and there. Nina perches on the counter to face Matthias. Her green gaze bores into him until he can't stand it anymore.

"Look, this wasn't supposed to happen," he flares loudly. Trassel backs away, his tail between his legs, but Nina doesn't flinch. "I _tried_ to make everything perfect for you. I was making waffles and everything! The whole room was nice and pink and pretty. And at the end of dinner I was going to ask you to prom! But now you're not going to say yes because I- messed- it- up! And now the whole thing is-"

"Yes."

Matthias stops kicking the ground furiously and turns, baffled. "What?"

Nina rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. " _Yes_ , you big blond lump, I'll go to prom with you."

He gapes at her.

"Look," she starts, frustration and affection both evident in her eyes. "I don't need- what was it you said? A 'nice and pink and pretty' room?" She scoffs. "Screw that. I came over to spend time with _you._ "

"But-" Matthias floundered. "Isn't it not... well, appropriate for me to ask you to prom like this? Isn't it supposed to be, I don't know, romantic?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I've never been one for being socially appropriate."

When Matthias continues to look dumbfounded, Nina sighs and takes his hand. "You're irritating, and grumpy, and a stickler for rules whenever I want to do something. But no matter how you asked me, I'd say yes. We don't need to live in a fairytale to love each other."

"And besides," she adds after a moment, "everyone knows _I_ make the best waffles."

Matthias squeezes her hand back. "Unfortunately, that might be true."

"Bow down to me," she jokes with a grin.

They smile at each other until Nina breaks the silence. "You know I'm going to find out what happened to your kitchen someday."

Matthias thinks back to his internal spurning of romance, his whispered curse, and his dog with the brain of a toddler. "You won't," he says defensively, face going red.

"Of course," she laughs, and kisses him on the cheek. "Of course."


	2. felt fire without matches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's WESPER time!
> 
> TW: A PART OF THIS CHAPTER WILL CONTAIN HOMOPHOBIA, ABLEISM, AND BULLYING (ISH). if you don't want to see that, skip over the part between two dashes (---).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter: jesper and wylan are a power couple honestly

"Are you sure about this?"

"When have you ever had reason to doubt me?"

Wylan counts on his fingers, glowing pale and bright in the dim evening air. "Well, there was the time you _swore_ the librarian would love us if we rearranged all the books by - and I quote - 'cool factor.'"

"I told you, I thought there would be a different librarian on that day!"

Undeterred, Wylan continues, much to Jesper's chagrin. "There was also that time we failed our science project because our lightbulb plus your homemade battery the size of my fist almost blinded the teacher."

"It wasn't our fault the teacher couldn't handle my _shining_ idea."

"Really? Again with the puns?"

Jesper kisses Wylan. Just to shut him up.

When he pulls away, the shorter boy is completely red in the face. Wylan runs a hand through his curls and stammers out, "If you really want to go inside, we should probably hurry up," pointing to the entrance of the hotel.

"I see no reason to," Jesper says with a smirk, though he loops his arm through Wylan's and tugs him toward the door anyway.

Every step they take brings them closer to the venue, pulsating with music that makes Jesper want to spin Wylan around like a Pixar movie. He can see students laughing and talking, twirling in their dresses and tuxedos, string lights beaming down from above. Adrenaline races through him. This is _their_ night, the night that his father always seems to look back on with a twinkle in his eye. He can taste the freedom, on the tip of his tongue.

And then he feels rather than sees his date take a deep breath, taut with nervousness. "You know some of our classmates aren't particularly... accepting," Wylan reiterates. It's the worry he voiced earlier and the worry Jesper had tried to assuage. "Oomen, Dunyasha..."

"We'll be okay," Jesper assures him. He squeezes Wylan's hand, and after a moment of hesitation, Wylan squeezes back.

They enter the room and are immediately overwhelmed. It's crowded and loud, the bass throbbing so hard Jesper can feel it in his chest. But once they shove through the initial throngs of people and make it to a table, the two of them can breathe again.

They settle down together and watch Matthias twirling Nina to the beat of the music. Their two friends look flushed and tired, but there's a light in their eyes that Jesper doesn't see often. Even just observing them makes Jesper feel free.

"We should dance," he says, voicing his thoughts. He gets to his feet with a flourish and extends a hand toward Wylan. They drift toward the dance floor, albeit very slowly because Jesper can't take his eyes off his date. _His_ date.

Once they step onto the floor, Jesper feels energy rush through him as the song picks up speed. He has no idea how to dance, but he tries his best, moving his body to the rhythm in tandem with Wylan. He steps on his boyfriend's foot multiple times. He trips and falls at one point. They're certainly not perfect, but the way Wylan looks comes stupidly close. When the lights flicker off his curly hair, or when he smiles the way he always does, Jesper's heart goes haywire like a colt scared from its mother. It careens around his chest at an unnaturally fast speed.

The song fades into a slower one, and they grip each other tightly and do that swaying-on-the-spot thing all couples in rom-coms seem to do. Warmth spreads out against Jesper's chest, and he sees Wylan resting his head on his shoulder. He holds as still as he can, even though it hurts his lungs for a second. Wylan feels like a bird that could be scared away at the slightest sound.

Jesper tries to take deep breaths, tries to hold still, tries to keep his foot from tapping and his fingers from twitching. Wylan deserves the best of him. It's all he can offer. It's all he will offer.

All his life, he's sprinted, never really taking time to stop and watch the fireflies, instead seeing them blur into streaks of flame around him. Jesper is the frenetic whirl of a dust devil, the pow-pow-pow of a pair of revolvers, the lightning strike and the race and the adrenaline soaring through his veins. He wasn't expecting prom to be any different, imagining a night of dancing and shouting (and yes, maybe drinking).

But here, holding Wylan close, it doesn't feel like the adventure he's always sought. It feels like lanterns glowing softly and rambling stories told over infinities of seconds. It feels like home.

"This is nice," Jesper says, and his voice wobbles with all the emotion he can't seem to express.

Wylan pulls away to look up at him, and Jesper can't say he's not a little disappointed. "What's nice?" Wylan asks.

A breathless laugh bubbles out of Jesper's mouth. "This. Dancing. With you."

Wylan opens his mouth. Closes it again. He runs his hand through his curls as if he's trying to fabricate a response. Finally, when he speaks, it sounds tenuous and thin. "Why?"

Jesper's so shocked that he almost laughs again. "Why? Maybe because you're a wonderful person who I never thought I'd be together with? Maybe because you're so kind and thoughtful and amazing - and I'm none of those things? I-" his voice breaks. "I didn't even think I'd finish high school at one point."

"Are you kidding me?" Wylan's red in the face and Jesper can't stop noticing how gorgeous he looks. "I'm- I'm _damaged goods_ , Jesper. I can't even read right! My father-"

"Your father, Wylan, is a complete-" Jesper spews a string of curse words, half of which he probably shouldn't even know, but it's worth it because Wylan looks marginally cheered up by the end.

"It shouldn't have, but..." Wylan exhales. "That made me feel a little better."

Jesper takes Wylan by the shoulders and looks into those sky blue eyes. His head spins. And he means it when he tells Wylan, "Nobody could ever deserve you, because you are extraordinary."

For the second time that night, they pull each other into a kiss. But for the first time that night, Jesper's heart doesn't leap like a gazelle as soon as they make contact. He feels himself calming down, slowing, because Wylan is by no means safe but he is _absolutely_ the right thing.

\--------

"Well, well, well."

They break apart.

"Oomen," Jesper says with a snarl in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

The angular boy - knobbly but just as tall as Jesper - raises his hands in mock surrender. He's the one who broke Inej's rib last year by shoving her, and the one who was subsequently bullied by Kaz Brekker for months, although the latter never acknowledged it. (At least, not directly.)

"Calm down, Fahey," he drawls with an accent annoyingly similar to Jesper's farm boy talk. "This is my high school, so this is my prom too." He tilts his head like a wolf, assessing the two of them. "Although you and Short Kid over here are ruining it, honestly."

Wylan straightens his back. "What do you mean?" he asks. At first glance, he looks terrified, but Jesper can see that his eyes have gone cold and hard, shining steely blue in the strobing lights.

Oomen scoffs and flicks his wrist condescendingly. "You two. Both... boys. It's weird. Gives me the creeps."

Jesper cracks his knuckles, all rational thought flying out the window. "Oh, I'll give _you_ the creeps when I smash your ribs in."

"We all know that's not going to happen. Wouldn't want to mentally scar your pretty little friend over there." Oomen nods toward Wylan. "At least, more than he already is."

Red washes over Jesper's vision. He lunges at Oomen, fists clenched, body tense-

-but someone else gets there first.

_Crack._

Wylan's fist connects with Oomen's face.

Jesper watches Oomen reel backwards as if in slow-motion. 'Connects' might have been too light of a term for it. Maybe 'hits,' or 'punches.' Yes, it was definitely a punch.

Oomen collapses whimpering on the floor, curling up into the fetal position, clutching his nose. His fingers scrabble at his eye. All his bravado is gone.

"Really?" Wylan asks lightly, and what the hell he's _smiling_ and Jesper is completely taken. "I didn't hit you that hard."

A pained grumble is Oomen's only response.

It's only now that Jesper becomes aware of... well, the rest of the nearby area. Their gazes press into Jesper's skin like needle points, small, but utterly painful. He sizes them up: about six or seven students goggling at them, all shorter than him. Good. Easy to intimidate. He's certain nobody else saw because of how crowded the room is: these students were basically blocking the rest of the room from seeing everything that just went down.

"I'm sure you won't tell anyone else about this," Jesper says airily, one eye on Wylan watching Oomen tremble. "But... if you do..." He lowers his voice conspiratorially and winks. "I'll have you know that I'm perfectly capable of doing the same thing my _boyfriend_ just did."

The other students scatter.

\--------

Jesper turns to Wylan, his facade falling. Oomen said some pretty horrible stuff back there. "Are you okay?"

Wylan smiles again, quiet, breathtaking. "More than okay."

They walk out onto the dance floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! again, i won't force you to, but if you leave a kudos/comment i will love you forever


	3. made promises without fear of getting burned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last (but definitely not least), kanej :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter: kaz is extremely ooc
> 
> let it be known that i love mutual pining so. much.
> 
> anyway i'm sorry this took longer than the other two chapters! i had a health scare but we're working on it now, broke some bad news to my friends, dealt with a tragedy in my small town. i'm ok, but all this has put me in a pensive mood, and that might have shone through in parts of this chapter
> 
> CW: KAZ'S PTSD AND A SLIGHTLY-GRAPHIC, VERY SHORT FLASHBACK.
> 
> and finally, an important notice - i do not have experience with ptsd, and this is my first time writing it. although i conducted quite a bit of research, i understand that this may not have been enough to accurately represent something like this, or i may have romanticized it. please, please, if you find this offensive or disrespectful, tell me. i will gladly take down this chapter if you find that i didn't represent it right. <3

Of _course_ she would choose to torture him like this. Of _course._

"I can't believe I ever trusted you," he growls at the smaller figure. She just hums and closes her eyes, a smile on her face. "This- this is _betrayal_ , is what it is. How could you hurt me like this?"

"You were the one who followed me here."

"I did not. You dragged me along."

Inej looks over to the dance floor, where the rest of the Crows are twirling breathlessly. The music is quick and lively, the singer's words undecipherable but catchy nonetheless. Not that he would ever admit it. "You and I both know that's not how it happened."

Kaz folds his arms and tries not to give into that sensation, of a battle between wanting to lean closer to her and hating wanting to lean closer to her. "I'm no longer associating with you."

A different person would have punched him on the arm, a playful hit that meant the world to him - and not in a good way. Inej just rolls her eyes at the ceiling. The other five may not understand Kaz, but she comes the closest out of them.

He studies her, feeling like he's standing in full-on sunlight even inside the hotel. Her violet dress, shot through with gold, keeps drawing his eye, and he looks away. Half out of self-consciousness, half out of respect for Inej. But he'll be damned if he doesn't know how to read her, and right now, her stiff posture and the way she keeps glancing around shows him nothing but discomfort.

"I told you this wouldn't be fun." _Too many people, too many bodies._ The strobing lights almost make him feel nauseous.

She gets that irritated look on her face again and leans against the wall. "This was meant to be the most memorable night of our time in high school. How was I supposed to expect- this?"

Dirtyhands and his Wraith, two of the most feared names among the school. But that's only when they steal and sneak, bribe and barter. They're not always dark figures that slip toward their shadow-shrouded goals. Nobody else sees them when their facades are down, and they become two teenagers bantering back and forth. Just Kaz. And Inej.

Granted, Kaz concedes, it doesn't happen often. He's not good enough for that. (For her.)

He's not oblivious to the other students skirting around them. He glares at them until they skitter across the room to hide in the shadows of the adults. "Don't be rude," Inej chides him.

"It's in my nature," he answers. He studies the room, then begins to limp toward the door.

Inej watches him, almost-surprise on her face. "Where are you going?"

Kaz looks back over his shoulder, a smirk on his face. It's gentler than Dirtyhands, but crueller than Rietveld. A being of the gray, lost between good and evil - or maybe not. Tonight, he's just a high schooler, resisting the urge to impress his partner in crime. "You'll see."

They swerve through the crowd, even though it's clear that both of them loathe physical contact. Kaz goes out of his way to avoid people. Inej flinches every time someone runs into her. As fun as prom looks for everyone else... it's simply not for them.

Kaz shoves open the door and steps into the cool evening. A light breeze blows through the air. Already he feels better than he did back there.

Inej comes out right after him, and if she's startled, she hides it well. She glances up at the sky. "The stars are out already."

Despite his - well, his everything, Kaz tilts his head back too. She's right; the sky is dark blue and as deep as the ocean. The stars, bits of glitter scattered over the waves.

Then he almost laughs out loud. _When did I get so poetic?_

Inej looks at him then, a spark in her eyes. "Why did you want to come out here?"

Kaz waves a gloved hand at her, trying to force a nonchalant voice. "Just wanted to scout the area. You know me. I'm always looking for marks."

She pins him with a glare, and for a second he can hardly breathe. "Can't you relax for just one night?"

He wants to explain to her that no, it's impossible for him to relax when she's _right there_ , pulling the air out of his lungs every time she moves, every time she gets close. He wants to tell her that she is brighter than the full moon in the sky and, at this moment, he just might choose her over anything else.

Instead, he raises an eyebrow and says, "I don't know about that."

Inej watches him watch her for a moment, then sighs and walks away from the main building. Now it's Kaz's turn to follow her. His cane thumps on the sidewalk but soon shifts to softer sounds when they step into the hotel garden.

Neither of them mention that they're probably not supposed to be back here. They've never been much for rules.

"Never understood the point of these," Kaz comments. The aroma of the roses is too strong for his taste, and he twists one of his gloves on his wrist. "It doesn't seem like a whole bunch of flowers would be appealing to most people."

"True, but..." Inej plucks a fallen geranium from the ground and puts it in her pocket. It sticks out slightly, as if taunting Kaz. "When you put them together, they really are quite pretty." She gazes out over the moon-painted garden, flowers edged in silver and rippling like feathers on a bird.

The two of them stroll through the garden. The sandy path rustles under Kaz's feet. Inej, catlike as always, seems to glide over the ground instead, a spectre painted in violet and sterling. (She's breathtaking. She always is.)

They're not even halfway down the path when Inej speaks, and her voice is calm but her words are a confession. "Maybe I shouldn't have built up my expectations so much."

"Why?" slips out of Kaz's mouth. It sounds harder than it should.

She shrugs. "It's just that my parents met at prom. They're always talking about how amazing it was, how one night changed their lives." Her hand seems to drift toward the geranium in her pocket. "I should've have known it'd be different for me."

Kaz shifts his weight from foot to foot. His mouth tastes coppery. "Maybe it doesn't have to be."

Her fingers still, and she looks straight at him with that piercing gaze. Inej is standing in the shadows, and she is far from the textbook definition of beautiful in this lighting, but there's something about her that feels, honestly, otherworldly.

She was never supposed to be beautiful. (Even though she is, she is, she is, his mind sings.) She was supposed to be extraordinary. A girl tangled in shadows who chooses to reach for the light, spectral words, courage that burns. Flawed, of course, but flawed in the way a flower grows: natural, hopeful, a future waiting in the air.

"Maybe-" Kaz breathes in, and the air feels like ice, cold and spiky and impossible to inhale. He is suddenly hyperaware of the gloves on his hands.

Inej watches him, arms crossed, eyes as dark as the boundaries of space. She does not come closer.

He is not good. He's never been good. Everything inside him is twisted and terrifying, and each step toward something new will be about as long as a mile. But Kaz will do it for her. He'd walk to hell and back if it meant saving her.

"I can be better," he says, or maybe promises. It's hard to tell. Slowly, he slides off his gloves, first the right, then the left. They fall with quiet thuds in the undergrowth. Inej watches them, nothing escaping her mouth.

He remembers the first time they tried for intimacy. A year ago, a drunken party. They'd kissed each other in a haze of alcohol and thrown up two minutes later. They didn't look each other in the eye for days.

He steps closer to her, and her soft inhale is almost audible.

Again, seven months ago. They'd been so close, in the front seat of a "borrowed" car, a rare smile coaxed out of his mouth as they soared through the midnight streets. For a moment, he'd leaned closer, then nausea had overcome him and he'd been gripped by an episode. Her voice had brought him back, like it always did, but they were shaky for the rest of the night.

Another step. Another mile.

Just last month, sitting together in the library, feeling the sunlight cascade over them like something Kaz could never touch. Inej had laughed that laugh of hers and he'd been overcome by something he'd never felt before. He touched her hand. He left the building.

Kaz is one foot away. _Focus._ He reaches for her hand, a desperate hope, a shot in the dark.

The waves crash over him, and he fights. He's not back at the beach, being pulled out into the water. He is so close to Inej he can see himself reflected in her dark eyes. His skin feels vulnerable and exposed, the evening air pressing onto them. Kaz latches onto that, clings to her rhythmic breathing. He feels his own chest rise, fall, fall, rise, rise, fall.

"Kaz. You're here." Inej's voice is raw and vulnerable and so incredibly _alive._

Rise, fall, rise, fall.

Kaz has come too far for this.

He is not in the water. He is a high schooler, on the best night of his life, bathed in silvery moonlight. He is not drowning or gasping for air. Broken, yes, but he has healed. (Or he will heal, patching himself back together, bit by painful bit.)

They'll fall, of course, but they'll also rise.

And when he pulls himself back together, he can breathe again.

Inej is strong, but her words are as soft as a cloud's touch. She murmurs something to him that he can't quite make out, but the emotion behind it is clear. Kaz knows she deserves someone who doesn't fall apart at the slightest touch. He knows, he knows, he knows.

Kaz pulls the flower from her pocket, and she almost stiffens. But when he tucks it behind her ear, she's still and quiet. He can feel her pulse racing at a hundred miles an hour, beneath her warm dark skin. The water threatens to swallow him, and he fights it back. He will not drown again.

He reaches for her hand, and when he touches it, he can't hold back the shudder this time. Inej's heart is still pounding beneath her skin, so different from the ocean waves, resounding and resolute. This is the hard part. They are the hard part.

A millimeter at a time, Kaz and Inej intertwine their fingers. Waves beat at Kaz, but he stands still, and despite his quick shaky breaths, they all fall away eventually. She is warm, a pulsing beacon, and her heart rate seems to sing something that only Kaz can hear. They hold on to each other. He is here with her.

He is far from perfect, but this was the first stop on that journey. He promises himself to try, to fight, and to never stop. The ocean can roar, but he will never give in.

They stand still together, hearing the crickets chirp, watching the moon wash the garden in its clean silver light.

Beauty is never something they were destined for. They are a different story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading this (and sticking with these lovable dorks)! i sincerely hope you enjoyed <3 kaz's voice was really hard to nail so let me know of any constructive criticism! feel free to comment what you'd like me to write next as well :D be safe!

**Author's Note:**

> of course it's not necessary but a kudos/comment would make my day <3


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